


Imagine Darksiders

by Sybariticfanfiction (SybariticReyna)



Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: I said I'd do it and I did, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, i love Strife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SybariticReyna/pseuds/Sybariticfanfiction
Summary: Imagine rolling over in bed one morning and Strife’s lying next to you, snoring. You have no idea how he broke in, again.(But if you're honest, you don't really mind)





	Imagine Darksiders

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this is gonna be multiple imagines from the blog but some of them are really cute so uhhh, probably gonna be a series of one shots? 
> 
> Anyways I love Strife. 
> 
> Oblivion has been taking over my free time tho. The glitches are fucking amazing... Like. If you've never played it, you should. Just for the weird glitches.

 

In retrospect you should've known what was going on when you heard a clanking noise in the middle of the night, but your half asleep self brushed it off as one of the neighbors. The warmth and the snoring should've also tipped you off, but again, half asleep you isn't the sharpest.

So you're pretty damn shocked to find Strife sprawled across the other side of your bed when you move to stretch in the morning. _Although_ maybe not as shocked as you should be.

 _Again?_ you wonder. It's always boggled you how easily he manages to break in, but you also have to wonder why he bothers in the first place. Surely a "super powerful protecter of the balance" has better things to do. 

One arm is thrown over his face as if he can't stand to be uncovered even in his sleep, although a quick glance at the floor confirms he took off his mask and armor. For Strife, that's pretty good.

And you've gotta admit, he looks pretty cute half hanging off the bed, your pastel blanket only covering a small portion of the huge Horseman. You find his obvious effort to let you keep your half of the bed oddly endearing, despite the fact _all the of bed_ is supposed to be yours.

You shove at his side, knowing from experience being gentle won't wake him up. "Strife. Strife, come on, you can't keep showin up here." You're not sure why he keeps showing up, to be perfectly honest, but you suspect it's some weird Horseman courting thing.

He turns to face you, eyes stubbornly shut.

"Strife." You huff. He doesn't react until you begin poking at his face, and then its only to swat you away. He doesn't like that, and you know it.

"Mornin, grumpy." He throws an arm around your middle, dragging you against his chest. You've long since stopped pretending to be annoyed by his touchy feely-ness.

"I changed the lock." It's meant to be accusatory but it comes out more like a question.

His lips lazily tilt up. "Picked it."

"How'd you learn how to pick a lock?" You almost don't want an answer.

"YouTube." He's amused.

"You're such a liar."

"Yeah." He agrees without pause. "You love me anyway." 

_...Yeah._

His eyes open when you don't immediately respond, probably to make sure he hasn't crossed a line.

You send him a reassuring, if not tired, smile. "I do. Although maybe not the way you'd like." You reach out to brush his hair back, making it spike up again. "You shouldn't keep coming here." The statement has no heart behind it.

"I know." Again, no hesitation. "You're just too cute. Can't stay away."

You bark a laugh, "Shut up, oh my god."

He presses his forehead to yours, "Make me, short stuff."

"Wouldn't you like that?" You bite down on your lip in a vain attempt to stop smiling. There's worse ways to wake up, you suppose. "And I'm not short."

"Yeah, you kinda are. You should meet War."

"Considering you can quite literally bench press me, I think meeting your big brother would be terrifying." You snort.

"Little brother. Well, younger. He is the biggest though, so maybe we'd start with Fury." His fingers idly start tracing your ribs, as if comparing the size of his hand to your waist. If it were anyone else, you think you'd be self conscious, but its Strife. Strife who thinks you're the greatest human ever and is very vocal about it.

"Is she the smallest?"

"She's about even with Death actually, but she's... Nicer. Can't imagine Death would be very excited about meeting you anyway. He and I don't get along." He reminds you. As if you can forget the many times he's shown up complaining about his elder brother.

"Oh, so I got the second biggest? Sounds like War would be an upgrade." You tease.

Strife has you on your back in a second, his mouth dangerously close to your own, "Aw, come on, babe, size doesn't matter. I'm the best the nephilim have to offer."

You tilt your face away and his kiss lands on your cheek. "Strife, I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

"You were the one questioning my abilities." He retorts.

"Well--" Your reply is cut off by an abrupt laugh curtesy of Strife's free hand on your side. You dissolve into a fit of laughter as he tickles you, obviously trying to prevent you from getting the last word in this 'argument'.

He only relents when you start gasping for breath, and even then he keeps his hand right where it is. "You..." He starts, his smug grin fading into something much more affectionate. "You're so god damn cute, you know that?"

"I would contest the god damn bit, but I've been allowing a gunslinging Horseman in my bed for months now." You comment.

"I think you mean _welcoming_ a gunslingin Horseman into your bed." He adopts a southern accent, and you can't tell if its mocking or not. You laugh anyway, bringing a hand up to muffle it. You've had _way_ too many noise complaints in the last few months.

"Your accent is abysmal." You say. "And you could've easily substituted "horseman" for "cowboy" and made the joke like four times better."

"Harsh criticism from the one who thinks puns are top tier comedy." Strife responds with a snort.

You gasp in mock horror. "You either stop right there or you get out of my bed. Puns are the best, and I will hear no further agreements." He looks like he's about to argue anyway, so you add, singsong and not at all smug, "Besides... There are much better things to be doing." Your tone leaves little to the imagination, and just to seal the deal you drag your fingers through his hair.

"...like?" He hesitates, hopeful and confused.

"Making breakfast!" You exclaim, smiling brilliantly.

He blinks. He takes a deep breath. He looks at you like you kicked a puppy. "You gotta stop getting my hopes up like that."

"I don't gotta anything." You respond, pushing his shoulder. He flips back onto his side with a frown. "Aside from eat, because I'm very hungry."

You pretend not to hear his suggestion of what you can 'eat' as you head into the kitchen.


End file.
